Emily's Death
by I am Clara Oswald
Summary: Set Season 7, Emily Prentiss x Reader. What happens to you after Emily 'dies?


**Emily Prentiss X Reader**

"She never made it off the table" were the last words you remembered hearing before everything went silent. How could this happen to Emily. How could this happen to you. Someone from many years in her past came back and took away the only person who you loved with all your heart, the only person who you felt properly safe with. Ripped from your life. Everyone around you was crying, but not even one tear left your eyes, you weren't even welling up. Your walls flew up, faster than you could imagine possible. You would not be crying in front of these people today.

JJ made her way over to you, her lips moving, but you couldn't hear, only now being able to hear muffled sounds. She placed her hand on your shoulder, but you flinched away, not wanting to have physical contact, because you knew that your wife would never touch you again. You would never see her silhouette standing against the warm glow from the sunrise. You would never kiss her lips, or even hold her hand. You saw the look that emerged onto JJ's face, concern, for she had tears on her face, as did the rest of the team, but you, the one devoted in more ways than one to Emily, had nothing but a cold stone expression. You stood up quickly, making JJ jump, and the rest of the team to turn and look at you, whilst you hastily tried to remember the way out of the hospital. If was as if you'd fled, speeding to the doors, walking away from the only people who could provide you any comfort. You would not deal with your emotions tonight, not do you wish to be pitied by your friends.

IACOIACOIACOIACOIACO

Three weeks later, your team got a new case. You were in the briefing room, after taking 'personal time'. What the team didn't know was that you spent every day sat by the door, waiting for Emily to come home and tell you that it was all a big joke, that it was just a prank, and in fact Emily was alive, and hiding from you. You ignored the looks that your team mates gave you, electing to sit next to Aaron Hotchner, the one man you could count on to be most professional.  
"Y/L/N you are late, we are heading straight to the jet, Garcia will debrief you."  
"Yes Sir." You replied, thankful that at least someone was acting normal. Everyone stood up, all filing out of the room.  
"Hey Y/N, it will take a few secs, promise!" The analyst chirped, sensing your deadbeat mood. You reluctantly stayed, listen to her talk about the victims. It was all going well till  
"Hey Y/N, we haven't spoken to you in over three weeks, sure you were at the funeral, but you didn't say anything. Gumdrop, I just wanted to say, if you need anything, my lair door is always open okay? And if I'm at home, let's be real, you still have the key I gave to you _years_ ago. Keep safe okay?" You nodded, moving towards her, opening your arms, and giving her a quick hug. You knew that that was enough to explain to Garcia that you would keep all that in mind.  
"Don't worry, we've got some badass friends whom I am sure would kick someone's ass if I wanted them too," you said, swiftly leaving Garcia to return to her lair, whilst you grabbed you go bag and headed to the air stip.

Almost 5 hours later you arrived in San Diego, California, heading straight to the police department, and setting up a room to conduct the investigation in. You pinned up all the pictures of the victims, all in their 40s, all with medium length dark hair, dark eyes, or to put simply, the spitting image of your wife. You paused, you hand shaking, tears threatening to spill, before excusing yourself and heading to the restroom.  
You closed the stall door, sitting down, feeling the tears slowly fall down your cheeks, cursing to yourself that your inevitable breakdown was going to happen here and now. You heard the door open and close, holding your breath so that the visitor didn't hear your short breaths.  
"Y/N?" It was the faded Pittsburgh accent of one Jennifer Jareau, obviously seeing your immediate leave after properly looking at the pictures of the victims. She knocked on the stall door. You briefly questioned whether or not to allow JJ to see the state that you were in, before unlocking the door, revealing your puffy eyes, and smudged mascara. "Hey hey, come on now," she said, opening her arms, which you immediately fell in to, whispering calming words into your ear.  
"I haven't cried. For three weeks JJ, I've been silent. Every night I sit by the door, hoping that Emily will come home. I can't accept it. And seeing those girls, the ones on the board, forced me to admit that I have lost her. JJ she's never coming back."

IACOIACOIACOIACO

7 months after Emily was taken from you, and Derek had a lead on the man that took away your happiness. This was it, you were going to find him. You had been emotionally unstable for months, drinking, crying, locking yourself away from everyone, you could count on one hand how many cases you had worked since she had left you. But this one, you weren't going to step away from it. This would be the only case that you would ever care about. You had joined the rest of your team, tracking him down, and this was it. You had caught him. Morgan hadn't shot him, but you knew that if you were on that roof, you would have done it yourself, apparently so did the rest of the team, leaving you to be in the van with Garcia. Now you sat at your desk. In custody you had the man who had taken away your happy ending, and you swore with all your being that you would take away his, no matter the cost.  
"Hey Y/L/N, Hotch wants us all in the briefing room." JJ said, as she walked past, grabbing your hand and guiding you to the room, sitting you down in a chair, whilst she went and stood by Hotch. The rest of the team filing in, half sitting down, and half remaining standing. You noticed JJ eyeing you nervously, maybe this was about the emotional damage to the team, specifically pointed at you, as JJ had been the only one who knew how you truly felt, after you confided in her almost 6 months ago.

"Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. The Doctors were able to stabilise her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration." You blinked, locking eyes with JJ who had an almost guilty look upon her face, and red eyes.  
"Her identity was strictly need to know, and she stayed there till she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had any access to for her security." You stood up, moving towards Derek, the only person you thought you could trust right now.  
"She's alive?" you stammered out, not quite believing what Hotch was saying. "JJ, did you know?" The look in her eyes was enough to tell you that she did in fact know, "You kept it from me? You _knew_ how crazy I was going, you _knew_ that I was questioning whether or not to be alive and you _still_ kept it from me?" This time the Derek gripped your hand, giving it a squeeze, as if he knew that you were feeling this way.  
"I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me." He finished, pointedly looking at you.  
"I was so close to killing myself and you didn't think to mention to me that my wife was still alive? JJ…whether or not this was Hotch's decision…" you trailed off, shaking your head as if to say never mind. You let go of Derek's hand, walking out of the door, into the bullpen, to the lift, then out of the building. Today you could not cope. Your wife was alive. She had been alive the whole time. The person you considered your best friend had lied to your face, telling you that Emily was gone. Was she still in Paris? Did she still love you? You got home, letting yourself in, then locking the door behind you. You went straight to your room, and straight to sleep, vowing to yourself to not talk to JJ or even Hotch till you got a proper apology. Till then, you weren't leaving your room.

IACOIACOIACOIACOIACOIACO

You woke up 9 hours later. Checking the time on your phone, you noticed that you had an abundance of missed calls, and texts from your team mates. It was 2:13am. You listened to the first voicemail, an annoyed one from your unit chief, telling you that this was an inappropriate way to behave. Among the message voice mails left, two stood out. The first one from JJ.

 _Y/N...we are all so worried about you I… I am so sorry. I was so terribly wrong. I couldn't tell you, it was for Emily's safety. Need to know only. I don't know if this will make things worse or better, but when I had contact with her, she always asked about you. She knew that I would end up being the one you went to for help, she knew how low you got. I promised her I would do everything I could to help you. For what it's worth, I am so so glad that you are still here. Alive, with us. Please call me when you get this. I got Derek to drop by your house but you didn't answer. I'm very scared Y/N. Please be okay._

The next one was from a blocked number, simply saying the word: _Sorry_.  
Reading the texts, you realised that the latest one was from 10 minutes ago, telling you to come to the office as soon as you can, that it was of the utmost importance. So you get up to shower, putting on clean clothes, making yourself a cup of hot chocolate in a travel mug, grabbing your keys and bag, and making your way to the car.

As you arrived at the building, you hesitated to go through the doors. You were here almost 11 hours ago, learning that your wife was still alive. It didn't occur to you then that she might be nearby, but now you had the realisation that she could be here. She knew about how bad everything had gotten, how much you missed her; how you had secluded yourself from the team when you knew you were going to cry. Right now was one of those moments. You felt the hot tears rolling down your face as you stepped into the lift.

Upon seeing the bullpen, your hands started to shake slightly, nerves filling your whole body. It was 3:48am, you were in work, and you were possibly going to have contact with your no longer dead wife. You walked towards your desk, looking at the images, hearing Hotch's office door opening behind you, then footsteps stopped merely a metre away from you. You hesitated, not looking. Not quite ready to face the facts, yet you could smell the vanilla perfume that you knew so well. You breathed in, as did the person behind you, as they stepped closer, now almost touching your body.  
"I'm so sorry…" you spun around into open arms, pulling her close to you, openly crying onto her shoulder, just as she did to yours. You pulled away slightly, planting your lips onto hers, revelling in the taste of her lips, or what you call home.  
"Emily Prentiss…" you whisper, taking a breath, before kissing her again, with as much love as you could show, for it had been 7 months in the waiting. Your belief was true. You had believed that she was going to come home, and she did. "I almost… I thought I'd lost you, I wanted you back but I couldn't, I…I was so hopeless I almost…" She hushed you, shaking her head. You would talk about that later, but for now, all you wanted to hear was her smooth voice.

"Hey Y/N, I love you."


End file.
